


Let's Talk About Us

by MusicalProstituteMyDear



Series: Their Little Family [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Caregiver!Aziraphale, Domestic Fluff, Little!Crowley, M/M, Non-Sexual Age Play, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-20
Updated: 2019-08-20
Packaged: 2020-09-18 23:20:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20321191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MusicalProstituteMyDear/pseuds/MusicalProstituteMyDear
Summary: How Aziraphale came to learn of certain inclinations Crowley has kept hidden from him. Or, how they both came to terms with this new aspect of their relationship, in which romantic love turns to parental love.





	Let's Talk About Us

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to @monochromehobo who suggested I write one "about how they got into this situation/part of their relationship." Here you go, pal!

Ever since the dawn of creation, Aziraphale had been certain that Sunday was his favourite day of the week. He would awake at an ungodly hour to attend Mass bright and early (so that he’d be able to spend the rest of the day with Crowley), followed by a later brunch, afternoon tea in the gardens of their cottage, a joint nap, playtime with the Them, dinner with the Device-Pulsifers, a movie, and finally right off to bed for the both of them. They would spend six whole days dealing with the enumerated, vexing matters of this Earth—and most times, of their semi-head offices—in order to allow themselves just one, singular day of bliss. This particular Sunday followed that exact equation of events.

Directly following the duo’s duping of Heaven and Hell, the couple had solidified two agreements: to move out of their respecting living spaces in the city and to move in with one another. Of course, Aziraphale would not lie, saying ‘farewell’ to the old bookshop was tough as ever; Crowley recalled he helped his husband cheekily bid goodbye the warehouse in Soho that housed the bibliophile’s obsessions. 

_ “We’re taking the books with us, you know,” Crowley assured him from across the store, then fraught from head-to-toe with boxes. “Got a whole basement just for you.” _

_ Aziraphale pouted, looking about the naked emporium. “I know, I know. It’s just,” he exhaled through his nose. “Memories. We’ve shared so much, so many of them. Here.” _

_ Anthony rolled his eyes: why’d he have to be such a sap? He waltzed over to where the angel stood to plant a soft kiss upon his partner’s tear-stained cheek. “Angel, we’ve got bloody six-thousand years under our belts to remind us of how long it took us to get to _ this _ spot. How’s about we focus on what other firsts She’s got in store, yea?” _

_ The principality wept quietly, appreciating his husband’s genuine comments. He nodded, entwined their willing fingers, and in a flash, the two were already standing outside of their Tadfield chalet. _

Ever since the supernatural duo had moved closer to the children, they had found themselves playing babysitters to the newest Horsemen of the Post-Apocalyptic world. At the present happening, the Antichrist was running about their verdant backyard with his closest friends, enjoying what little they had left of their youth. Aziraphale sat opposite Crowley at the little outdoor wire table that they’d bought to adorn their personal Eden. The angel had begun to notice, however, that whenever the Them came over to make use of their garden for their games, the demon became uncharacteristically silent. As if he was...studying them, in a scientific sense, to see how the nature of children have altered over time. 

Even when Anathema and Newt announced to Aziraphale and Crowley that the witch was expecting the couple’s first babe, the demon congratulated them politely, and grew confidential. Yet, Aziraphale had always known that tiny humans captivated Crowley exponentially. Aziraphale knew their innocent, pure-hearted intentions nestled comfortably into his husband’s heart; then, why was it that whenever he was around them, he got so distant? 

Once Adam and Co. had packed into the back of Mr. Young’s station wagon and sputtered away, Aziraphale closed (and locked) the front door. He couldn’t contain himself any longer—whatever was nagging so rudely at Crowley’s mind would be known to his other half, whether the demon liked it or not. 

“Alright, I’ve quite had it,” Aziraphale chided. Crowley tensed at his partner’s cold, caring tone, yet remained ever so laid-back. “You will tell me what’s the matter this _ instant _.”

Crowley blinked behind his glasses. “Nothing’s the matter, ang—”

“You haven’t ceased to be such a horrible liar. Please, dear,” Aziraphale used both of his hands to take off Crowley’s glasses, exposing his honey-tinted eyes. “I know you wouldn’t dare lie to me.”

The demon shut his eyes tight, taking up one of the angel’s hands and squeezing it. “Haven’t you ever wondered what it’s like?” 

“What what’s like, darling?” 

“Tuh be a _ kid, _ Aziraphale! Tuh just,” he gestured to his celestial body and the air around it, “not have to worry about, um, whatever it is that grownups, ah, _ people _, worry about.” 

Huh. That was it? Aziraphale really had thought worse was coming his way. The angel couldn’t help it, really, and began an onslaught of laughter that was nothing short of a genuine reaction. 

“Oh, my sweet boy, you must forgive me,” the blond worked in throughout his cherubesque wheezing. “I have seen how you observe children, almost as though you are jealous of them. To be frank, dear, this comes as no surprise.”

Crowley faltered a moment. “Jealous? Wuh, absurd, that. Even so, I won’t be mocked by you for such a fact.” Crowley broke away from physical contact, sulking over to the sofa, sinking into his designated spot on the cushions. Aziraphale quickly followed after him and patted his hair with a touch so tender, cotton would shiver with anticipation. 

There was silence between the two for a moment’s hush until Aziraphale smiled at himself. “Haven’t you learned what became of curiosity and the map?” He asked wholeheartedly. 

“It’s a cat.”

“What?”

“‘_Curiosity killed the cat,’ _isn’t that what you’re getting at?” The demon rolled his eyes.

“Oh. I suppose it is.”

_ “What’s your point, even?” _ Crowley hissed. 

The angel had been dealing with this same hostility for years now: there were no fears, nor boundaries, that could halt Aziraphale’s plan. He drew himself closer to his beloved, so that the little practically was cradled against the angel’s breast. “Well, anyway, what I _ mean _is that… If you are so bedazzled by children and their innate ways, why not give it the...old college try?” 

“I _ beg _your pardon?” The demon squeaked, flinging himself from his husband’s embrace. 

Aziraphale sighed. “Hush, you. Enough with your blubbering and get back here. My lap is growing cold, little boy.”

His jaw cartoonishly broke open at that final comment, with a velocity at which it snapped downward. The pair’s eyes met the other’s, and finally Crowley succumbed to drawing nearer, pouting. 

“Oh, there’s a dear,” cooed the angel. “You are a wonder, Crowley. I love you so. And I detest to see you ailing over such a minuscule matter when you could be so at ease. For the past six millennium you have looked after me, my love. Let me care for you in the way your heart so benevolently desires. And, if that doesn’t appease you, why not say that you’re doing it for, ah, research?” 

And, with the uttering of such tender words passing through Anthony J. Crowley’s ear canals, somewhere along the way inside his brain, the floodgates opened and out came the cries of a demon, finding himself fully immersed in his new role. Aziraphale cooed and held his charge closer to his heart, peppering his wet face with the sweetest kisses. Crowley wailed and wailed, letting thousands of years worth of anxieties and stressors be washed away with each fallen drop. It was at this moment that the principality unsheathed his virgin-white wings, wrapping them securely around the mewling boy in his grasp. It had been decades since the demon got to gaze upon his husband’s heavenly pinions, yet was too deep in his own head to even register that fact, honing in solely on the warm sensation radiating off of them. No force born of any world could tear them away from one another, as the two stood there for a bit, undulating back and forth. Finally, Aziraphale snapped his fingers, allowing them both to be transported to their shared bedroom. Crowley was sitting at the edge of their Queen mattress, still recognisably crying, yet the stream of tears and snot subsided significantly. 

“Alright, then, little love, what do you say we take off these icky clothes and crawl into bed then, hm?”

It was at this comment that Crowley displayed a new habit, certainly attributable to his newfound role with his partner: a few of his left-hand digits made their way up to his mouth, and the demon began to nurse on them as he nodded. Aziraphale audibly cooed - he knew that when morning came, he had plenty of shopping to do for the “new baby.” But, for now, he’d have to make due with what he had. The angel pliantly removed Anthony’s bleak adult attire and now left him in his skivvies, before sending up a quick apology to the Lord Herself for the miracle he was about to perform. 

But, before Aziraphale could even open his eyes, what he’d planned to pray for was already completed. A fluffy, babyish, and utterly adorable white nappy took the place of the underwear that were previously encasing Crowley’s nether regions. Aziraphale blinked widely, yet recalled a notion that stated how She worked in mysterious ways. 

Aziraphale made haste of putting on his own nightwear before the parent and child nodded off in the embrace of one another, thankful for the graces of language that allowed them both to finally begin this defining new chapter to strengthen their bond even deeper. 

Yes, they both knew they would quite so come to appreciate the following Sundays even more than they already did—and they couldn’t wait for these next weeks entailed.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! If any of you folks have any suggestions/prompt for more ideas in this series, plop them below. Xx


End file.
